As Raul smoked, tasting the cigarette, liking the cool, rocky interior, a leghorn hen scratched, found a grub and beaked it in the sunlight.
Raul felt easier in his mind. The new responsibility was a challenge; he had no doubt as to his administrative ability. Back against the rocks, he smoked in silence. He was on the side of freedom.
As they headed for the hacienda house, Manuel rode in front.
Raul called him: "Ride beside me, Manuel."
Manuel checked his horse and gave his cartridge belt a yank.
A buzzard circled above them.
"I've made up my mind," Raul said, and his face brightened. "I've told Salvador that I will manage the hacienda from now on."
Manuel's fingers tightened with pleasure on the rein, his eyes became slits, and a slow grin began. He glanced at Raul and nodded, and then glanced away.
"I told Salvador to move to Petaca and make us new carts and repair old ones. We must begin to improve things."
"But your father?" Manuel asked, almost mechanically, fearing Don Fernando's domination; for a moment he felt his conflicting sense of duty, acquired through the years.